Gregory P. Wong
"All ready, Caboose," Street said into his radio.
*Amx_teleport Savage Cannibal to...*
Player Savage Cannibal has been teleported!
"What the fuck now?" the CT rasped in annoyance.
*amx-disarm Savage Cannibal*
Savage Cannibal has been disarmed!
*Amx_heal Savage Cannibal 5000*
Savage Cannibal has been healed
And then the he noticed that he had landed smack dab in the middle of T spawn, and he didn't have so much as a sharp stick as a weapon.
"Mommeeeee," Cannibal whimpered like a little girl.
In the end, the entire Terrorist team had done very painful things to Cannibal, things involving glocks and body parts. Plus knives.
Street had a brilliant idea to dispose of Cannibal.
With a little help of the command amx_rocket, Cannibal was given a rocket-powered suppository and lofted into the air.
Churchill, viewing through his scope, said that Cannibal must have gone more than three hundred feet straight up before exploding.
Solza could have sworn it was five.
Jmar clutched his Desert Eagle-his M4 had run out of ammo, and he wasn't going to risk the noise of picking something else up.
The rest of both teams were dead. It was just him versus Jive.
Just them two.
He could hear speech come floating out of the windows of house.
Huh? Weird. Could Jive be using the hostages as leverage, torturing them to make sure he didn't come inside? But that made noise, and he would be able to sneak up...
Well, one way the make sure. He crept into the door of house.
The noise hadn't died down. In fact, the radio was still on, the basso voice of some Italian dude giving a pretty good imitation of the sound a goat makes when it was dying a horrible death.
Okay, take it east, take it slow.
"I'll raise it, bitch!" a voice said from the top floor.
Raise what? Well, only one way to find out.
He walked up the stairs. He took a peek and...
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" he snapped.
Jive had set up a square table right next to the radio, and looked to be playing poker with three of the hostages.
"Shut up! I'll get this on the river!" Jive barked over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn around.
He rolled his eyes. Judging from the cards in Jive's hand and the common cards on the table, Jive wouldn't win jack shit.
"Okay, I'm going to turn the river! Here it goes! I'm gonna--"
Jmar blew his head off.
Counter-Terrorists were victorious.